


Idiots, Inc.

by AEpixie7



Series: Ineffable Bureaucracy [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, But that's what happens when you piss off the Prince of Hell, F/F, F/M, Hinted Dagon/Michael, Humor, Idiots, Idiots Everywhere, Minor demon death, Some really unexpected violence, The bosses get found out by their employees, he didn't deserve it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 21:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20973425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEpixie7/pseuds/AEpixie7
Summary: Now that Gabriel and Beelzebub have gone back to work to try and throw everyone off their trail, they fail gloriously. Their respective best friends are like "Yeah. You're fucking. We know."  Everyone is stupid, and everyone is tired.





	Idiots, Inc.

Michael tapped the door with a knuckle just as Uriel was leaving, and Gabriel halted his organizing of paperwork to glance up at her. She held her usual tablet in her arms, a ring on her hand tapping against it absently. 

"Sorry to catch you as you're wrapping up, Gabriel, but I have just a few more items that require your attention." 

Gabriel looked down at his paperwork, then over at his phone, then his watch. He was already several hours late, and he felt terrible when he'd had to text Beelzebub and delay. This was a rather important meeting- he had finally found the perfect place for them, and he wanted to surprise her with it. It made him sick to have to postpone, but Beelzebub's plan had been working perfectly. With how hard he had been working, no one suspected a thing. 

He sighed and rubbed his temple, his pen resting between his fingers. "Yes, alright, Michael, please. Come in," he gestured to her, moving his stack of paperwork so she could set her tablet down on the desk and begin swiping through her files. She preferred to keep all her business neatly organized electronically, whereas Gabriel preferred the tangibility of actual paper. 

"I just need your signature here, this is authorizing the decommissioning of the War Preparations department." 

"Of course. How do I..." 

"Just sign with your finger, like a pen." 

"Oh." 

He signed the tablet awkwardly, and Michael swiped through to several more pages that also needed his authorization, each swipe causing his impatience to grow and his heart to pound louder in his ears. He reached up absently and tugged his turtle neck a bit higher, his knuckle grazing the bruise he was so desperately trying to hide. 

"And, I know you are aware of this, but the Armory would like to know what to do with ten million flaming swords that now have no purpose..." 

"Yes, I'm aware. They keep sending me the same inquiry, the same paperwork, as if sending it multiple times will get me to respond any quicker. I don't know what to fucking tell them, Michael. Maybe they should just chuck the fucking swords from the Heavens and let the humans figure out what to do with them," he barked irritably, and Michael's silence alerted him to the fact that his response might not have been the right one. He glanced up at her, her arched eyebrow and unamused smirk confirming his suspicions. _Cool it, Gabriel. You're going to give yourself away._

"Right. Sorry. That was... unhelpful," he mumbled, his phone dinging once from his desk. He panicked and threw it in the top drawer, slamming it quickly and returning his attention to Michael's tablet with enthusiasm. "Let's um... see if we can't figure this out..." 

"Gabriel, are you alright?" 

"What? Yes, of course, why wouldn't I be? I'm always alright, I'm fine..." _stop fucking blabbering you idiot you're making it worse..._

"Am I keeping you from something? Or someone?" 

"Uh. No, I don't have... anywhere else to go, where would I go? I mean, my work is here..." 

Michael straightened, her arms crossing in front of her as she cocked a hip. "Do you think I'm stupid?" she asked. 

"What?! No! Of course not, I..." 

"You think I haven't noticed that hickey on your neck?" 

_Oh God. Oh no. Make an excuse. Say it's another angel. She knows you've slept with other angels. Hell, she was one of them once! But who do I say it was? She's too damn nosy, she'll follow up with the other angel, because she has to know all the gossip, all the time..._

"Gabriel," Michael said, a hand on his shoulder as she stared down at him. "I know about the Prince." 

Pure, unadulterated _panic._

Michael smiled, her hand squeezing his shoulder lightly. "Easy, Gabriel, don't discorporate yourself. I'm the only one that knows. And I don't care. You think I haven't dipped my toe in a few back channels? Don’t flatter yourself. Things are different now, and besides... you've seemed... different lately. You seem happy," she said, removing her hand from his shoulder and folding it over her other hand as she perched herself up against his desk, her eyes somehow soft but with a hint of something else. Envy? 

"So you're not... gonna tell anyone?" 

"Of course not, dove. I'm a little jealous, perhaps. I'd be lying if I said I'd never admired the Prince for her intellect and viciousness. But I wouldn't tell anyone. You're not the first angel to fall for a demon— oh, goodness, poor choice of words, haha," she chuckled at herself, immediately gulping down her amusement at the look of absolute horror on Gabriel's face. "Anyhow, you won't be the last. Now, if you've got an important appointment with the Lord of the Flies, please, just go. I'll cover for you here. You'll be no use to us if you're distracted." 

Gabriel sat and stewed in his panic for a moment, still trying to wrestle a way to deflect, to convince her she was wrong. But she wasn't, and she knew it. He swallowed hard, feeling very warm beneath his suit. He pulled at his turtle neck again and shifted in his seat. 

"But... we should... figure out what to do about the swords. I can't keep ignoring the inquiry. Someone's bound to notice, _She's_ bound to notice..." 

"I'll tell them where they can stick their swords." 

Gabriel looked up at her, a slow, disbelieving smile spreading across his lips. Michael returned it warmly, her hand patting his shoulder once again as she stood and collected her tablet, making her way toward the door. 

"Michael?" 

She turned on her heel, her hip cocked in a picture of poise and grace, a sweet smile on her lips. 

"There's um... probably going to be a... sizeable miracle coming from me later. Do you think, since that's your department, you could, maybe... erase it from the records?" he asked tentatively, his pen tapping nervously against the desk. Michael shook her head incredulously as she continued to smile. 

"You really do live up to the endearment our demon companions so enjoy. I'll see what I can do, wank wings," and with that, she turned and disappeared out the door. 

"She's too good for you, Gabriel!" she teased on her way out, and Gabriel shoved all of his paperwork into the drawer as he frantically collected his phone and shouted after Michael's departing shadow. 

"On that we agree!" 

*** 

Beelzebub was starting to think that every single demon in Hell was submitting complaint paperwork just to be petty. They were all upset that they hadn’t gotten their chance at glory during the Great War, and they were taking it out on the Prince. She had failed to kick start Armageddon, after all. So they were all trying to punish her the only way they knew how. With an insultingly large pile of paperwork. 

She glanced at her phone to see the last text message she'd gotten from Gabriel several hours ago. 

**I'm really sorry.**

She knew he hadn’t delayed on purpose, he was genuinely held up with work. He had been so excited when he texted her the day before, demanding she drop everything and come see the place he'd found. She had very nearly done it. But when she caught herself blushing and smiling down at her phone like a lovesick idiot, she'd forced herself to reschedule to today. She had a reputation, dammit. And now she sat behind her desk in her office, staring at a formal Request For Compensation. The demon responsible for said request yammered at her until her ears threatened to rot and fall off, and she was really starting to wish she'd just ditched and met Gabriel the day before. 

She hadn’t answered his text. She didn’t want to admit how disappointed she'd been when he postponed. She didn’t even realize how excited she was until it wasn’t happening, and now she felt sick. She knew Gabriel must feel terrible, and she didn’t want him to. She also didn’t want to be feeling sorry for him, or herself. What the hell was this mess of emotions and whose were they? They certainly weren’t hers, for Satan's sake. 

She dropped the paperwork and grabbed her phone, shooting a hastily typed answer. 

**It's fine, angel. Any closer to finishing up?**

She immediately frowned at it as soon as she sent it. It sounded desperate. And abnormally patient. Who was this demon she'd become? A few months ago she would have been angry with him and probably would have smacked him around for making her wait. 

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” the demon in front of her snapped. “Perhaps I should take my concerns straight to Lucifer. He'll listen, and I'm pretty sure he'd like to know that you're skirting your responsibilities and texting on the job.” 

Beelzebub pulled her attention from her phone _very slowly_, her eyes already smoldering red as she placed her phone face down on the desk. 

The demon didn’t have time to blink before an Archangel's dagger impaled his left eye, his body turning to dust and leaving the dagger to clang against the floor after bouncing in the dust that gathered in the chair he'd suddenly vacated. 

Beelzebub sighed and slumped in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance. She _definitely_ shouldn’t have done that. It was going to result in even _more_ paperwork, and probably another talking-to from Satan. The amount of times she'd been reprimanded for destroying a demon with a bad attitude was frankly getting obscene. 

“Wow,” Dagon said loudly from the doorway, startling Beelzebub from her thoughts. “I knew you were in need of a shag, but was that really necessary?” 

Beelzebub cleared her throat and straightened in her chair, sniffing and fidgeting in an attempt to hide the rush of blood to her cheeks. 

“I'm not… what doezzz that have to do with… oh shut up, Dagon.” 

Dagon chuckled at her, approaching the dagger on the floor and bending to pick it up. Beelzebub stood quickly, knocking her chair back as she shouted. “Don’t! Um… don't touch the blade,” she murmured, adjusting her volume when Dagon froze. 

Beelzebub hurried around the desk and snatched the dagger off the ground, mindful of the blade as she carefully slid it back into the sheath she now wore strapped to her thigh. Dagon's eyes lingered on the three purple gemstones on the hilt, before dragging up to meet Beelzebub's eyes. 

“Shall I grab the dustpan, your Lowness, or are you doing some new manner of redecorating that I've never heard of?” 

“Keep it up with the smartass comments and you'll be next,” Beelzebub teased, before returning to sink dejectedly into her desk chair, rubbing her temple as she looked down over the complaint paperwork. Not much use attending to a complaint from a demon who no longer existed. 

She leaned back in her chair and ignited the piece of paper with only a thought, watching it burn and begin to scorch the desk beneath. 

“My Lord, if I may be so bold…” Dagon said, approaching on the other side of the desk and folding her hands behind herself. Her razor edged teeth glinted in the fire light. 

“Is the dick really that good?” 

Beelzebub tensed so hard she tipped her chair over backwards and flailed her limbs as she tried to catch herself. She jumped to her feet and yanked the front of her coat to adjust it, clearing her throat and glancing around as if nothing happened. 

“What… in _Heaven'zzz_ name are you talking about Dagon? And, you know what, _no_ you may not be so bold, I'm insulted you would say such a thing, I have half a mind to write you up for that…” 

“Good luck. All paperwork goes through me, and I can't help it if the rubbish bin sits right next to the filing cabinet,” Dagon smiled, stalking around the desk and blowing out the burning paperwork. She perched her ass on the desk and propped her feet on the upturned desk chair, one leg on either side of Beelzebub. She hooked a finger into Beelzebub's coat where it was buttoned, pulling her forward with enough force that Beelzebub had to catch herself on Dagon's thighs. Dagon closed her eyes, leaning in and breathing in the Prince's scent. 

“You can't hide it from me, my Lord. I know it's been a while, but we were lovers once. I can smell Lust from you a mile away. Like blood in the water.” 

Beelzebub fidgeted, her eyes darting everywhere but to Dagon's silver irises. 

“Although I must admit… never would've pegged you for an angel fucker.” 

Beelzebub shoved back away from her, her cheeks still flushed and her temples beginning to glisten with sweat. “That'zzzz not… I'm not…” 

“My Prince,” Dagon said, standing and bowing slightly before adjusting her bodice. “There is no need for secrecy between us. I am your loyal servant, and quite frankly, I'd love for you to take a break and venture topside. Go and visit your little purple eyed bird, because to be entirely honest… you reek of angel. I'll send the rest of the complaints away, so you can murder them at your leisure.” 

Beelzebub stood dumbfounded, her fingers twitching and her breath caught in her throat. _Say something. Anything._

Dagon giggled, before turning and miracling up a jar which filled itself with the ash of the disintegrated demon. She jammed a cork lid on top and left it on the edge of Beelzebub's desk, with a label that read '_Demons Who Complain Too Much_.’ She sauntered toward the door, her long silver nails drumming against the metal door frame as she passed. 

“Give him Hell.” 

Beelzebub couldn’t help the wide smile that graced her lips. 

“Alwayzzzz.” 

*** 

The Archangel waited impatiently in the lobby of Head Office, his scarf twirling absently around one hand. He visibly relaxed when the Prince emerged from the escalator, a genuine smile warming his face as she approached. She blushed and stepped close to him, her hand grabbing one end of his scarf and wrapping it once around his neck before tugging him along like a puppy on a leash. It was a disgustingly sweet sight, if Dagon were to be honest with herself. But honesty had never been her strong suit. 

She lounged casually in the lobby café, an untouched cup of coffee growing cold on the table in front of her. A small child stared at her from a booster seat one table over, and she smiled wide, revealing her mouthful of piranha's teeth and sending the child into a chorus of terrified wails that were music to her ears. 

A beautiful brunette woman walked briskly by the family, her fingertips barely gracing the child's back and immediately silencing the cries. 

“Such a sweet little cherub, Dagon, why must you be so cruel?” Michael asked as she sank down in the chair opposite from Dagon, helping herself to a sip of the demon's coffee. She frowned down at the bitterness and replaced the cup to the table. Dagon ignored the question, choosing not to bare her teeth once again at the baby. 

“My boss is an idiot,” Michael said absently, watching the Archangel and the Prince fondly as they disappeared on the other side of the revolving doors of the lobby. 

“Same,” Dagon sighed with a smile, her eyes wandering over to Michael when she wasn’t looking. The angel wore a pretty silver peplum suit with lace accents, and a downright sinful pair of white patent leather pumps. Her foot kicked absently as she watched the bustle of the lobby, the sunlight gleaming off her golden lipstick. 

“I need a drink. Care to join me?” Michael asked, her pretty eyes settling on Dagon with a smile that was anything but innocent. 

“I thought you'd never ask.”


End file.
